


All I've Ever Felt For You Is Love

by EmpireOfTheClouds



Category: Carry On Series - Rainbow Rowell
Genre: Angst, Attempt at Humor, Babies, Baz is whipped, Boy don't tell me I didn't warn you, Confessions, DID - Dissociative Identity Disorder, Enemies, Enemies to Lovers, Hearing Voices, Hunger Games References, I Don't Even Know, I WANT TO CRY, I Will Go Down With This Ship, I hope Wayward Son is less angsty than this, I miss Ebb, I'm Bad At Tagging, I'm Sorry, Insecure Simon, Insecure Tyrannus Basilton "Baz" Pitch, Love Confessions, Love hurts even the best of the best, M/M, POV Tyrannus Basilton "Baz" Pitch, Same guys, SnowBaz, Suicidal Thoughts, Their Love Is So, They insecuring, This book destroyed me, This is an ugly mess, Why Did I Write This?, i'd die for them ok, it won't happen again, pain and suffering, pure angst, unless?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-21
Updated: 2019-09-21
Packaged: 2020-10-24 19:00:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,519
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20710949
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EmpireOfTheClouds/pseuds/EmpireOfTheClouds
Summary: He cried again. He couldn't do it. He was scared shitless. Terrified. He wanted Simon there, next to him.Simon.Simon.He let the thought of him take him over. He closed his eyes.Simon.Simon.Simon.





	All I've Ever Felt For You Is Love

**Author's Note:**

> Hi so this is an ugly mess  
You have been warned

"SHUT THE FUCK UP, BAZ."  
He didn't allow himself to flinch - to crack the cruel surface. He pretended that he was amused instead of utterly hurt and sorry and devastated.  
"Aw, Snow is mad~", he sing-sang.  
Simon couldn't afford to go off on him - the Anathema would get him expelled. But controlling his nerves seemed like the most impossible task when Baz was being so fucking annoying.  
He clenched his fists and looked at Baz in the eyes, giving him his deathliest glare - he could feel the fire that was his magic burn him up from the inside and he knew he had to get some control of himself.  
Baz could feel it too.  
He was flammable. He was *flammable*. If Simon went off, he was a dead man.  
Even the tiniest of flames could set him on fire.  
And Simon's anger sparkled in his eyes just like flames.  
It was fucking scary. His blue eyes, otherwise so beautiful and soft and gentle, were looking at him with such intensity that he was sure about one thing.  
He hated him.  
Simon Snow hated him.  
That was good. That was his goal. They were enemies. He was the villain after all, correct? Correct.  
Then why the fuck did it make his heart break?  
With a sneer, he pushed Simon out of the way and exited the dorm room. He hoped that Snow hadn't gotten to see the tears that shimmered in his eyes, or the utter hurt the situation gave him, or else he'd use that against him and he'd be deep-fried in a matter of seconds.  
Not that death seemed to be too bad an option, but hey - Snow doesn't need to know about that either.  
He ran away quickly, almost falling down the stairs while at it - those same stairs he had once pushed Snow down from - and he found himself in the Catacombs only a couple of minutes later.  
He cried.  
And he cried.  
And he cried again.  
His heart hurt. He hated himself. He hated himself for making Simon angry, for making Simon hate him, for making Simon think he hated him back.  
Baz wished he could somehow tell him what it was he dreamt about when he slept.  
Being held in Simon's arms.  
Living with him with two and a half kids and a dog.  
Being kissed by Simon, feeling his lips against his own, against his neck, his collarbone, against his cold dead skin.  
He knew it was selfish.  
He didn't deserve Simon.  
Simon deserved someone so much fucking better than his petty ugly ass.  
"It'll take just a second. You won't even feel it", a familiar voice said.  
"Is it worth it?", Baz asked.  
"Is being alive worth it?"  
Baz didn't have an answer to that.  
He looked over to his mom's tomb. She had the bravery to do it, and she'd have wanted from him to do the same.  
He was sure.  
She would be disappointed if she were alive.  
She would hate him.  
She would want him dead.  
And he wasn't going to let her down. He could do this.  
Tears ran down his face when he asked, "what about my siblings?"  
"Please. They won't even miss you."  
It hurt, but he knew it was the truth. They weren't close. They probably wouldn't even notice until years later.  
"What about him?"  
"Him who? Snow? Are you fucking insane?"  
"I'M LITERALLY FUCKING TALKING TO YOU, HOW SANE DO I LOOK?"  
He didn't know if he had punched the wall or if the wall had punched his fist. He didn't remember. All he knew was that his knuckles were wounded - not bleeding, he hadn't fed enough for that - and that it hurt.  
But everything hurt already, so he paid it little mind.  
"DO IT", the voice said. "DO IT. DO IT. DO IT. DO IT. DO IT."  
"I DON'T FUCKING TAKE ORDERS FROM YOU!"  
"DO IT. DO IT. DO IT. DO IT. DO IT. DO IT. DO IT."  
Tears. A stream of tears and pain and suffering and wanting it all to stop.  
He heard himself scream, felt his body go off balance and get in contact with the cold stone ground. He felt his head spin, the screaming in his head relentless and the urge to hit his head against the ground stronger than ever.  
"Stop...", he begged inbetween sobs, "stop, please, make it fucking STOP!"  
It didn't stop.  
"C'mon Bazzy", another voice said, talking to him as if he were a four-year-old, "let's burn this ugly shithole up, shall we? And you'll see how fast it will all stop. No more suffering, honey. No more pain, no more screaming in your petty, stupid little head!"  
He cried again. He couldn't do it. He was scared shitless. Terrified. He wanted Simon there, next to him.  
Simon.  
Simon.  
He let the thought of him take him over. He closed his eyes.  
Simon.  
Simon.  
Simon.  
Bronze curls. Blue eyes. Moles. One above his eyebrow. One on his neck. One on his cheek. Freckles. Thin lips. Long legs.  
"He doesn't love you."  
"I don't care", Baz said. "*I* do. I do love him, and I don't fucking care if he doesn't feel the same for me."  
"Liar."  
"I LOVE HIM!", he screamed. He would scream it out for as long as he could, for as long as his lungs could hold, until he coughed up blood. He would be strong for Simon.  
For Simon. For Simon. For Simon.  
"DO YOU FUCKING HEAR ME, SIMON? I LOVE YOU, YOU SCONE-LOVING DUMBASS. ALL I'VE EVER FELT FOR YOU IS LOVE!"  
He heard his echo, loud and clear. He heard his echo.  
He heard his echo.  
No voices.  
"WE AIN'T ALL THAT BRAVE NOW, ARE WE, YOU UGLY WHORES?", he screamed, referring to the voices in his head. His throat hurt and he felt like he wouldn't be able to talk the next day. He didn't care. He would keep this up for as long as needed. He would keep this up for Simon.  
"ARE YOU IN HERE, SNOW? LOOKING FOR ME, PERHAPS? WONDERING WHAT VILLAIN PITCH IS PLOTTING? A LOVE CONFESSION IS WHAT HE'S PLOTTING!"  
He felt powerful. He felt fucking powerful.  
His legs were his own. His body was his own.  
And he'd make his mind his own too.  
He stood up, amazing even himself at how he managed to do so without stumbling and dropping back down, and wore his cockiest smirk.  
"LET THE HUNGER GAMES BEGIN, LOVE!", he shouted. "WHERE'S BAZ, HUH? IS HE PLOTTING? IS HE BOUTTA TELL PANEM HOW IN LOVE HE IS WITH YOU? YOU CAN NEVER KNOW, CAN YOU? NOT UNLESS YOU ASK HIM!"  
The scratching on his throat was getting painful. He coughed so hard he almost fell over, but held himself up with a hand against the wall. The voices were over. Breathing was hard, as it was taking his entire willpower to stay stood. He was panting heavily, his throat hurt so much he thought he was gonna die and so did his entire sweat-coated body.  
He heard footsteps. He knew who it was. He could smell him. He smelled like something he wanted to eat, and that was not exactly the ideal scenario at the given moment.  
Not that anything truly was. Everything sounded wrong and 100% insane.  
"Stay back, Snow, I'm still hungry", he warned, voice croaked and throat hurting.  
Simon hesitated, but fear soon took over him and he nodded, more confused than ever before as he ran outside the Catacombs.

* * *

"What the actual fuck was that, Tyrannus?"  
If looks could kill, Simon Snow would be a dead man.  
"Shut the fuck up or I'll show you real tyranny, and you ain't gonna like it one fucking bit, Snow."  
Simon didn't seem to buy it. He crossed his arms over his chest and the look on his face meant business. "I don't think you're in any place to threaten me, Pitch."  
"Fucking try me", he said, slamming the door behind him. Simon noticed that his clothes were bloodstained.  
It was confirmed, then.  
Tyrannus Basilton Grimm-Pitch, professional vampire.  
Simon sneered. "You could at least attempt to hide it."  
"Hide what exactly? I'm sure the world wouldn't want me to hide any part of my unbelievably beautiful face", Baz responded before discarding his shirt and throwing it on the floor rather harshly.  
Simon clicked his tongue in annoyance. "You know what I'm talking about, don't fucking play dumb."  
"Goodnight, Snow."  
"No way you're gonna manage to sleep tonight after all this."  
He was right, but Baz wouldn't let him know that.  
"It was a wish, ungrateful bastard."

* * *

"Why are you doing this, Baz?", Simon asked softly, so softly it made Baz's heart skip a beat.  
He kept on pretending to be asleep.  
"I know you're awake, you dumb fuck", Simon went on, tone just as tender as before despite the harsh words. "You're never this peaceful in your sleep."  
The thought that Simon knew how he looked like when he slept felt ridiculously intimate and he decided not to think about it for the sake of the pathetic remnants of his sanity.  
"What do you want, Snow, your mama to sing you a lullaby?", he shot back harshly, trying to cover his feelings, his broken heart, his pain, his suffering, his love.  
"There it is again!", Simon exclaimed. "You know full well I don't have parents, and yet you keep doing this."  
He wanted to cry. He wanted to tell him he's sorry. He wanted to tell him he never meant to hurt him and that he only did it because he had to and because his family made him and he never meant to be bad to him and that he loved and cherished and valued and *wanted* him more than anything in the goddamn world.  
Instead he said nothing, only kept on pretending.  
"Baz, please look at me", Simon said, and it sounded so much like a plea that Baz turned his head around in worry before he even processed the words.  
To his immense surprise, he was met with the sight of a tear-stained Simon, silently crying and fidgeting with his shirt.  
"What's wrong?", he asked before he could help himself.  
"You're what's fucking wrong Baz", Simon said, and for the first time, he sounded broken. Baz wanted to run to him and wrap his arms around his smaller frame and kiss him and comfort him forever.  
Instead he listened, for it was the closest thing to comfort he could offer Simon.  
Simon Snow, who hated him.  
Simon Snow, who was now crying because of him.  
"All these goddamn years you've been constantly reminding me that I'm useless and worthless and bad at everything and it's not like you're wrong cause you're really not, but I'd appreciate not being reminded every goddamn second that-", he paused, sniffling and wiping his tears away, "-that I'm a fucking disgrace, Baz."  
It hurt it hurt it hurt it hurt it HURT to hear Simon talk about himself like this and knowing that he was big part of the reason why he had such immense insecurities in the first place.  
Every passing second, every word that came out of Simon's mouth, every tear that ran down his face...  
It was like stabs through the heart for Baz.  
Facing the problems he irresponsibly threw on Simon Snow's shoulders, as if he didn't already have enough of those.  
Looking into the teary eyes of the love of his life and knowing that he and he alone was the cause of those tears, this pain, made him instantly regret not killing himself earlier in the Catacombs.  
"But even like that, I had come to accept it", he continued. His gaze had switched from Baz to his own hands that were still nervously fidgeting with his shirt. "Baz dislikes me, hates me even, and even if I want to get to know him and find out more about him and be friends with him and maybe something more than that, I have no right to talk about it, or he'll probably kill me."  
Whoah.  
If Baz wasn't surprised before, he certainly was now.  
"Wha-", he tried to ask, but was interrupted before he had the chance to do so.  
"Let me finish, please", Simon spoke, voice small and weak and soft, and Baz wouldn't be able to bring it in himself to say no if he wanted to.  
"I always admired you, y'know. I always knew you were out of my league, and thought that maybe that's why you hate me - because I'm a nobody, pretending to be a somebody. The worst Chosen One that's ever been chosen. A dumb little boy who can't even cast a simple spell without setting something on fire.  
"And now...", Simon trailed off, chuckling at what he was about to say, "and now you're suddenly screaming out your undying love for me in the Catacombs for the world to hear."  
Fuck. That possibility hadn't occurred to him.  
He was about to ask if anyone else had heard anything, but held it, for it would've been a major dick move.  
"Before you ask, no, no one heard", Simon said, as if reading his mind. "Except for maybe Ebb the goatherd."  
"And you."  
Simon nodded. "And me."  
Baz sighed. Everything had gone to shit, hadn't it?  
"Tell him it was lies", the voice said.  
"He won't believe me, you oaf", Baz responded - but not out loud. It would've creeped the living fuck out of Simon. "He's heard too much."  
"Not my fault, kiddo."  
"Choke on dick."  
"I'm you."  
"I'd consider myself lucky if I were to choke on dick. And no, you're not me."  
"Baz?", Simon asked softly, snapping Baz out of his conversation with his demons.  
"Sorry, I zoned out", he replied, surprising himself with how calm he sounded. Big yay for Baz. We stan.  
"Like you zoned out in the Catacombs?", Simon asked, but it wasn't accusatory. It wasn't pity, either.  
Baz was shocked to realise that it was understanding.  
Simon held out his hand. It was slightly shaking, unsure as it reached out to him, and every single cell of his brain was screaming at Baz not to take it, not to tear down his walls, not to give in to Simon and to just spit on his hand and set himself on fire, but he wasn't about to fucking listen because all he saw was Simon, and his gorgeous blue eyes that were looking at him in uncertainty, and his trembling hand that looked so soft and welcoming, and his bronze curls that shone like the sun, and he took his hand and held it, gripped on it tightly as if his life depended on it, and it was warm and soft under his cold skin, and Simon smiled and he looked like the brightest star in the sky.  
  
* * *  
  
We believed we'd catch the rainbow  
Ride the wind to the sun  
Sail away on ships of wonder  
But life's not a wheel  
With chains made of steel  
So bless me  
Come the dawn

**Author's Note:**

> The song in the end is Catch The Rainbow by Rainbow, aka one of the best songs I've ever had the privilege to listen to in my life  
Any sort of feedback is greatly appreciated!


End file.
